3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

After Rowan was done rehearsing, he thought about heading down to his dressing room, but the place was too quiet and too big. It was unsettling for him once he stopped dancing.

His coat on and his phone in hand, he called for the stagecoach, but before they answered, Jace walked through the door. “Hey! Need a ride?”

“How’d you know?”

“I was just going to wait for you to finish, but it looks like you are. I have to lock up for now. Everything is set for the night, so there is no need to keep the place open.”

He was relieved, pocketing his phone and heading out with Jace, watching him lock the huge barn doors.

As they rode, he asked Jace, “It must be intimidating to manage a place this big.”

“You have no idea. This place is special, though, just like the original.”

“Original?”

“Sure. There’s a club in Colorado that was the first. It’s still there, but it’s smaller and more intimate. It opens a couple of weekends a month and is still always full, even after we opened this place. It inspired Dante to open this place. Of course, Dante’s vision was much grander.”

“It seems like it. Everything with him seems grander.”

Jace laughed as he said, “Yeah, you understand him well. A beautiful husband, not one kid at a time, but two of them, homes worldwide, and don’t get me started on his clothes.”

“Oh, like the Prada shoes he wore, the seven-hundred-dollar wool and silk scarf, and the beaver cashmere trench coat straight off the Armani fall line?”

“The fact you know what he was wearing means you are on the grand side of shit too.”

“Now, maybe. I grew up poor. I mean, we had food and clothes, but generic food and discount and thrift store clothes. This is new to me, but I have developed a knack for the finer things in life.”

“You’ve worked your way out of poor. Good for you.”

If Jace only knew how he got started dancing, Rowan wasn’t sure he’d be congratulating him. “Thanks.”

Back at the cabin, Rowan napped for a few hours, then thought of heading to the club to see the layout when it was full of people. He wouldn’t start dancing until the next night, so one night of relaxation to get a feel for the place seemed in order.

Well, he had no idea what he was in for once the stagecoach dropped him off at the end of that road.

He wasn’t alone. Four other men were crowded into the coach, and they were all excitedly talking about the place the entire ride. Rowan listened to them, as they’d all been there a few days and had traveled to the club every night of their stay.

They loved it and said it was the best club they’d been to. That was high praise, as one couple was from Denver, where the famous Chaps was. Rowan had danced twice at Chaps and knew what a great club it was.

The big barn-like club was full by the time they got there. Rowan walked in to see a dance number by the go-go boys on stage as men mingled, watched the show, and flirted shamelessly with one another.

The energy was tangible, like walking through a field of electricity. One thing he noticed most was smiling. The entire place was smiling.

It was contagious. Rowan began to smile as he moved slowly through the crowd to the bar. After waiting for a good ten minutes, watching the three bartenders move in a blur of speed, he got his order of pineapple and orange juice blended with crushed ice and topped with a sprinkle of red sugar.

He’d never seen juice made so fancy. Then, he remembered, it was Dante Carrillo’s place.

As he carried his juice through the crowd, he moved closer to the stage and watched the rest of the dance number the five go-go boys put on. It was sexy, with lots of hip movement and lifting of arms to see most of their pits were cleanly shaved.

Funnily enough, he shaved his, but that was all he shaved. He’d never grown much hair anywhere. Even his pubes were light-colored, and there wasn’t much of it. He couldn’t count how many times he was asked how much he manscaped and was hardly ever believed when he said not at all.

Surprised to find a table free, Rowan sat facing the stage, smiling wildly as he watched some tumbling one of the go-go dancers did. He noted it and hoped to talk the guy into performing with him for at least one number a night.

Being all business was no fun, so he let himself relax for the rest of the evening, was hit on a few times, and actually considered heading off with a couple of the men, but kink tended to leave marks on him. For the mostly nude dancing he did, marks were not something he wanted to show off unless they were from…someone special. A night or even two with a guy wasn’t special enough to risk a bad rep from being all bruised and marked up by some random Dom.

The audience's tone was upbeat, and that was the kind of audience he liked best. Clapping, throwing money onto the stage, and encouraging the men to dance while celebrating with their friends around them. That was a lively, good audience to have.

He’d had plenty that were barely watching the shows and clapped as an afterthought. Those nights he went home drained from the lack of energy and questioning his reasons for still being on a stage.

“Hey, handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Rowan looked up to see a man who was tall, handsome, bearded, and just his type, but he lifted his juice that he’d barely touched. “I have one, but you can take a seat.”

“How about we head up to the private rooms instead?”

Creeped out immediately, Rowan was polite but firm. “No, thank you. I’m here to watch the shows.”

“Too bad for you,” he said, then leaned in, whispering loudly, “You’re missing out on nine inches.”

Rowan’s eyes moved to the man’s tight-pants-wrapped crotch and laughed a little before shrugging. “I’m good. Thanks.”

The guy wasn’t over four inches, but that didn’t bother him. Own your shit, was Rowan’s motto.

He was hit on several times, but sex wasn’t his priority that evening. He was taking in the crowd, feeling the energy, doing his own encouragement to the dancers and kink shows. When he got back to the cabin, alone, he was ready to settle into the comfortable bed, but then he saw the snow begin to fall.

Putting on his coat, he went out the cabin door and took it in, the snow falling on his face as he lifted his face to the sky.

Rowan loved the snow, the sun, anything that could make him feel. Sometimes, life was unfeeling and inert. The snow falling on Rowan’s face was life—real, intense, and wonderful life.

Sleeping in, Rowan woke and looked out of the window, seeing the nice new white blanket covering the world. He was energized, unlike anything he’d felt in a long time.

Getting dressed warmly; he headed out for a walk. It wasn’t the beach, but it might just be better. Everywhere he looked on the walk was beauty. Heading north after he left the cabin, Rowan found a marked trail and figured he should take that instead of wandering. No use having the entire place looking for him.

The trail wound upward after a hundred feet of a half-frozen stream. On the way up, a small waterfall transfixed him for a long time before the energy got to him, and he wanted to keep going.

The trail took him to the top of one of the lower hills in the area, but it was high enough to see for miles. At the curve in the trail, there was a bench, and he brushed off the snow fluff and sat, breathing in the fresh, cold air.

Mountains, valleys, rivers, all covered with perfect, pristine white. The birds were taking to the air, flying and swooping, celebrating with Rowan. Rowan laughed aloud, and that laughter seemed to be sent along the wind, flying with those birds.

The joy he felt was new. Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he felt so good. As he finished his hike, he started to be inspired.

He practically danced down the trail, and when he came to the waterfall, he found more inspiration, remembering the tumbling of the go-go boy from the previous night. That water was like the way the dancer tumbled on stage, and he hurried back to the cabin to write down his ideas before they leaped from his head.

After getting them written, Rowan picked up the phone to call Jace to find out the names of the dancers from the previous night and asked if Jace knew who the gymnast was.

“Sure. That one came to auditions almost a year ago, flying all over the stage. Scott Turbin. He’s great. Married, little kid, makes good money dancing for us, so his husband stays home with the baby.”

“That’s great! Can you give him my number and have him call me? I’d love to add him to my show.”

“Sure! Anyone else?”

“I’ll need three backup dancers for one number, Scott for another, and for the third, I’ll be on my own.”

“I’ll send my three best to back you up. When do you want to rehearse?”

“One this afternoon? Right now, I’m starving.”

“I’ll call the restaurant and have them keep a table for you, and the dancers will all be there promptly.”

He smiled even wider. “Thanks, Jace. I’ve never had a manager so…nice.”

“Unless he was trying to get into your G-string?”

“Exactly.”

Jace laughed and said, “Well, if I didn’t already have two hotties in my bed every night, I can’t guarantee I would be so nice, but as I do…”

“They’re lucky men. I’ll get ready to head to eat now.”

“I’ll tell ‘em you’re coming.”